To Match A God's Soul
by Jade Tatsu
Summary: The New World is filled with prejudice. There is an overriding prejudice towards the Undead. So when the New World is threatened by an Undead so powerful he defies description, it unites. It uses the only power it has, the power of souls, Wild Magic to fight. But tiered magic is not weak, nor is the resolve of the New World. The battle is joined and there can be only one victor. AU


30/07/2018

This was going to be Requiem 2 but it didn't feel right to me, so it's getting a run as a stand alone.

Long summary: Yggdrasil was filled with prejudice. That's why the Guild Ainz Ooal Gown existed. The New World is equally filled with prejudice but the New World is not just a game. Here the lines of prejudice vary and are distilled and there is an overriding prejudice towards the Undead. When the New World is threatened by an Undead so powerful he defies description, they unite. They use the only power they have, the power of their souls, the New World's Magic, Wild Magic to fight. But tiered magic is not weak, nor is the resolve of the New World. The battle is joined and there can be only one victor.

Thank you to PervySageChuck for beta-ing.

 **To Match A God's Soul**

-tmags-

It wasn't meant to be this way. It wasn't meant to end in fire and pain. It wasn't meant to end in anguish. All those were things he wanted to avoid. All those were things he had tried to avoid so very hard and yet…

It all fell away.

The world was now anguish and fire and blood. Nothing more.

The wind carried the scent of ash. Embers were higher, almost dancing against the night sky like fireflies. The stars were obscured by smoke. It was a hauntingly familiar sight. It was his own world writ large in the new.

It wasn't meant to be this way.

Ainz paused. He looked around briefly wondering why he was still running. He was undead. There was no spark of life driving him to survive but his own will dictated that he live through this. He could not let it end like this. Not now but… it would be easier.

Maybe the world could recover. Maybe the alliance would…

No, they lacked the strength. Demiurge had seen that, even as the species banded together. Even as they swore loyalty to each other, Demiurge had predicted, had known that it would all end in fire.

The demon had laughed as he died, his fires burning the world, burning those who had killed him. His prediction was now fulfilled.

Charred tree trunks surrounded Ainz. It had once been a grand forest. It was unnamed. Mare had created it. It needed no name but now it was gone. The trees were nothing more than silent fingers reaching upwards, a parody of what they had been.

A footfall sounded behind him. Ainz knew he'd lingered too long. There was no cursing. The creature following him was too controlled for that. Everything he had once been had been burnt away so that only one purpose remained. Where once there was life, was the desire to protect, now there was only the desire to kill.

It should not have happened. Ainz picked a direction. He ran again. This was familiar. Maybe that's why he was running. Maybe somewhere he was hoping the outcome would be the same as that day. That one, so long ago it was bathed in sunshine in his memory. Touch Me had rescued him and Yggdrasil had changed from pain and fear into the new world. It was the best day. Genesis for everything he loved.

But that was all gone now. The Guild was gone. They had slipped through his fingers then, moving on while he remained until the end. The new beginning.

The New World. New excitement, new possibilities. It wasn't the same. It would never be the same. Those created were not their creators but he could pretend. He could see the echoes in them. He could see what they could become and knew they could be so much more.

It was an innocent thought. Possibly the last one he'd ever had but it was his desire which shaped this world. It was his desire which had brought this ending. Except this wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't meant to be this way. It was all twisted and turned. It was all a shattered, badly drawn image.

The world would survive. Those within it were dying. Oh, they would live, they would breed, they could love but they were not what they should be. They were twisted, burned, honed like the creature following him. They were not whole. They were merely parts. They were parts he had wanted to join together so that they could see the possibilities, the heights that could be reached when differences were embraced, when one weakness was another's strength. He had wanted to see that but not like this, never like this.

The old him, the Player, was impressed. They had bound together. Orcs called humans brothers. Elves called dragons sisters. Dwarves called Quagoas fathers. Trolls called Nagas mothers. They united together. A Grand Alliance of all things living. All united as equals with one purpose.

Him.

He was their ultimate goal. Their final quest. The last to fall.

Magic had developed. Not the magic he knew. It was the magic of the land. Its wildness was tamed. It was controlled and made known. But magic is a thing of energy and even wild magic acknowledged the strength of his.

To make up the difference, they did the unthinkable. They did what they said he would do. Hundreds, thousands, maybe millions laid down their lives, were sacrificed for power. For it was only the living who could use the magic of the land. He would have been proud of them. Not the sacrifice but the union. It was what he wanted, what he was striving to achieve but not like this, not twisted and warped so the parts could never join. He wanted them united but mixed so that they all relied upon each other. So that they could see their strengths and weaknesses and know that everyone had a place.

Instead the new magic burned. It killed and consumed and screamed for more. They gave it more. They gave it souls, they gave it life. They fed it to the champions to take down his servants. To take those he loved. To take those who were his link to the sunshine memory of the past.

Beautiful, brave, gentle Mare. He never hurt anyone. He never wanted pain. They took him first.

The Grand Alliance bled for it. They died for it. Their champions faltered and struggled. They knew it was wrong. They knew the elf was not the one they wanted. They did it anyway. A strike to test their power. A strike to test his resolve. To test themselves. They were united.

Mare's blood tested their commitment, tested their bonds but drew them closer. It was their declaration to him.

Ainz reached up. His fingers touched his skull. He could not cry, yet he remembered his grief. He remembered everything. He had authorised retribution. He had authorised pain. He had authorised everything they accused him of doing but until then had never done. Aura had led the charge. He shouldn't have let her. She was not focused. He should have kept her with him, let her have those brought back but he didn't.

She didn't want that. She wanted blood. When news of Mare's death was brought to him, it was the only time he'd seen her cry. Aura howled her anguish to the world. She blamed herself. She demanded vengeance. He had allowed it. The Grand Alliance had desecrated Mare's body. He could not bring the young dark elf back. That was all the justification he needed, all the justification Nazarick needed.

Aura raged against them. But they were prepared. She didn't cry as they killed her. Her wrath would not allow it. She mourned her pets, but Aura simply tried to kill more of them. She did kill more and even with her passing she convinced other creatures to kill in her name. She did not go alone but again, her body could not be recovered. He could not resurrect her.

He didn't understand them then. The Grand Alliance. He didn't know what it meant. Every species, everywhere. The entire planet was not holding back. It was Nazarick and the Great Raid again. He didn't know it then.

Ainz paused again, looking around. Night vision was a racial gift that he did not need magic to use. He was running on empty but his undead body did not need rest. It needed will.

They had will. The Grand Alliance. They were prepared to pay in blood. It was a currency all came to understand in full.

He set off again. There was nothing to see and the one pursuing him was silent now. There was not even laboured breathing to betray the presence but that one had always been fit, because only a fit body could protect. He could probably see in the dark as well. A gift from the Wild Magic. He was one of the Grand Alliance's champions, strengthened by any means necessary. It was almost amusing. This one was not the strongest champion but perhaps he was the most determined. He had seen the one with the most strength. The Grand Alliance's strongest had been lost already.

They would consider them lives well spent because he was alone now. Out of mana and on the run. So long as their Champion succeeded, the Alliance won. He did not want to let them win.

He had been arrogant at first. He'd thought they couldn't fall, that Nazarick would remain unacquainted with defeat.

The New World conspired against him. The Grand Alliance was willing to pay a higher price than those of Yggdrasil. New spells were used, born of sacrifice. Nazarick was strong but it was of Yggdrasil. The New World was different. He had forgotten that because he was consumed by the similarities. It was the differences that did it and it was blood he was only willing to shed at the end which sealed the outcome. He shouldn't have hesitated. But he did not want to sacrifice them! They were…

After Nazarick fell, he hadn't hesitated. The world felt that. The world knew it with every funeral pyre that was lit, every town that fell. Everyone who died. Thousands more sacrificed themselves willingly to power the New World's spells, to see the Grand Alliance triumph. He killed thousands to see them fall.

They were two titans locked together, each trying to grip the other's throat. Each sacrificing whatever was necessary for that goal.

He'd lost many by then. Nazarick's fall had cost him dearly but the Grand Alliance did not gain from it. Albedo wouldn't allow it. The ten floors were now a tomb in every sense of the word. The Grand Alliance's Champions fell on every floor but they did not fall alone.

He lost Shalltear there. She fell on the third floor. The others thought her weak, along with Mare but they knew in their souls she was not. Nor was Mare. He'd been first because he was exposed. Shalltear fell now because her floors were first.

Still, she killed and killed and killed. Those left alive were so traumatised they sacrificed themselves to power the New World spells that the next wave would need. It was the way they would fight. Each wave dying against Nazarick's defences with the survivors sacrificed to power the next wave.

The world was united against him. All he wanted was peace. All he wanted was a place for Nazarick. That was not evil. He would not accept the Grand Alliance's proclamation that it was. No matter that the world turned against him. No matter that the world hunted him and any loyal to him, he would not accept it! Not from those who let their prejudices rule.

Gargantua fell next. The golem was loyal to Nazarick but was not one of The Chosen. He was not one of the created. But he fought, emerging from the lake to strike down those who stood against them. His bulk determined many of his attacks and despite the strength of the New World's enhanced fighters a crushing blow is a crushing blow. Gargantua took many but many more rose to defeat him, detonating themselves to take out a piece of his hardened body.

The Grand Alliance claimed victory but no one was truly sure if Gargantua was dead. Not then. In time it would be confirmed. The threat was grave but the strike had been sudden. They had sacrificed many to power the transport spells, thus not all from Nazarick were present. Cocytus and Demiurge were absent and from the moment the attack was confirmed, they were seeking where the attack was originating. It was only later that they'd know they made a mistake. The New World magic was different. It connected the world. The attacking force had been mustered in the far distance, in a land that was still sheltered from his knowledge.

Their absence meant the next three floors fell more easily. The term is relative. The Floor Guardians weren't there. Mare had fallen already. Aura fell to her revenge. It was not easy. Nazarick was not designed to be easy. Hundreds died, their blood staining the ice of Cocytus' realm red. Thousands died, their blood nourishing the plants of a vengeful jungle. Thousands more fell, their blood evaporating in the pools of lava that rose to consume the bodies.

But still the invaders came, each one a willing sacrifice so that another might take a single step further. Fire balls melted the ice. Dwarves felled the trees and frost dragons laid down their lives to freeze the lava. The eighth floor was reached. The battle began anew.

Victim died, as he was meant to but how do you fight those who expect to die? Who know if they live they will then lay down their lives to strengthen those who come after? Those Victim affected sacrificed themselves. The next wave was unaffected and travelled onwards. Rubedo fought, as did Aureole Omega. Thousands died. Blood flooded Nazarick and still they came.

The Grand Alliance rested much on this assault. They knew the price that might buy victory and were prepared to pay it.

The Eighth Floor fell. Nazarick mourned but was not yet defeated.

The Royal Suites slowed down the Grand Alliance. They had not expected them. There was nothing of importance left there. All of it had been moved to the Treasury or out into caches in the world. But the Pleiades Maids were there, as was Sebas.

Ainz looked up at the sky again as the memory almost engulfed him. He could not feel strongly as an undead but he could remember. That was worse. The embers had faded but the smoke was still thick. It looked like Earth, so horribly over polluted that the very air was contaminated, but he knew the planet would recover. He had wondered sometimes, if the planet itself had turned against him and there were times when trees had reached their branches and lifted their roots towards him but that had been the work of druids.

The fall of Nazarick was the work of the Alliance. He had known he was disliked as an undead. That's why he had put so many plans in place to force the New World to see the truth, that not all undead were equal. All he'd ever done, every time he engaged was to protect his own. They ignored that. He had cast every spell he could, searching for control or compulsion upon them but there was none. This was prejudice and fear and everything evil and dark about the living.

And they said he committed atrocities!

There was always a whisper. Always a rumour that things weren't quite right. They even reached his ears. He ignored them. People, human or demihuman, were jealous of power and Nazarick represented power. Perhaps if he had investigated… No, nothing would have changed. The Grand Alliance would simply have used another reason. Prejudice ruled their lives.

Ainz didn't need to breathe but he did as he looked behind him. He could not see his pursuer but he could sense he was still there. Still coming. Ainz wasn't sure why. There was no one left to save. That thought did not make him happy. The Grand Alliance had sacrificed the world to destroy him. Was he really that bad? He refused to believe it was so. Those who lived under his rule had benefited. All species had. He wanted the same thing as the Alliance.

Ainz set off again, pulling the rough brown material of his robe closer. He didn't feel the cold. The gesture was a holdover from the time when he was human. He moved. That's all he'd been doing recently. Picking a new direction to move in.

Sebas and the Pleiades Maids had held back the Alliance but their job, even in Yggdrasil had never been to secure victory. They existed to buy time and they did that well. It meant he was prepared. He had tried to run. Sebas had begged him to as soon as he knew he would be engaged. Touch Me's creation felt no fear, even as he walked to his death.

But there were spells on Nazarick now. Not [Dimension Lock], he would have recognised that. A new spell. He couldn't break it. He had to fight. Albedo had waited with him. Perhaps they should have aided the Maids. It would have made no difference. He had ordered the Homunculus Maids to hide.

They didn't survive. The Grand Alliance hunted and kill them, even though they were no threat, even though they were demihumans. Then they came for him. He didn't know how many had died by then. Thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands. It left the strongest now to fight.

Combat of that type was not glorious. There was nothing glorious about this war. Eclipse killed hundreds, they were packed that tight into the Throne Room. It was not enough. Albedo killed and killed and killed. She was a dark knight protector. She protected him. Every one of her skills was devoted to that. Still they came.

He replenished her strength. He replenished his own, delving into the items he had not used since the days of Yggdrasil.

It was still not enough.

Albedo knew she was going to die. She knew he would be destroyed. She could not allow that.

Ainz wasn't sure what she had done. Something. Something elemental but powerful. He thought it involved blood. There was no shortage of blood there, hers and that belonging to those the Grand Alliance had sent. All he knew was that he was running low on mana but was still fighting and then… He was on a ridge overlooking Nazarick.

There was a single pillar of light. He knew without any spell that it had penetrated all ten floors of Nazarick. Even from the distance he could hear the noise as things collapsed. He could see the way the very earth was sagging as everything went down. Nazarick was now a tomb to those who had fought for him, those who had believed. Their grave was desecrated by those of the Grand Alliance but there was nothing he could do about that.

He had to turn away. His racial limiters kept his emotions in check but he had to turn away. He had to strike them back. Too many had died for any other response. He was not sure if Pandora had survived. The Treasury was in a different plane but it was inaccessible now.

And he had struck back. Demiurge was still alive. The demon's loyalty burned all the more pure for the challenge the battle would bring. Cocytus was also alive. The lizardmen were not part of the Alliance. Nor were the countries who swore their loyalty to him. They rallied. He rallied them.

They struck back. The world burned. Millions more died. Wild Magic might have made new spells but he still knew his. Tenth Tier and Super Tier Magic still worked. He cast now, not caring who died, so long as the Alliance died. He raised the undead. He conducted rituals. Demiurge spread lies and deceit amongst the Alliance.

Some turned. Other's didn't. The time they spent infighting allowed further gains.

And still the world burned.

It was not enough.

Demiurge and Cocytus were strong but both were designed to fight on their respective floors. They had weaknesses the Grand Alliance exploited. The Alliance raised new champions. It took time but they were committed. Even as his forces marched, they were preparing. He killed and killed and killed, and still they came.

They took Cocytus first. The Vermin Lord was immune to most magic but not the wild new world magic. It was no comfort that Warrior Takemikazuchi would have been proud of how much it took to take his creation down. Cocytus, like all his other Guardians killed hundreds, possibly thousands. Even dragged down by the New World's magic, Cocytus fought. The lizardmen supported him as they could. They died as well.

To this day, their lake was still iced over. It was Cocytus' grave.

He and Demiurge pushed on. Together they invaded the countries of the Alliance. Dragons fought. They fell before him. More champions arose. He killed them. Still more came. He hadn't bothered to count the deaths. He hadn't bothered to count the thousands he'd raised as undead. Not just skeletons. Death Knights, Pale Riders, Liches. Everything and every type.

Those loyal to him got used to working with them. He didn't care. In the past, he would have viewed it as a triumph. Now it was a matter of survival.

There was another footfall from behind him. Closer. Ainz suppressed a hiss. His stride should be longer. His pursuer was persistent. They had been at this for days. Small groups from the Alliance attacked. He killed them. They consumed his mana, slowly eating away what had already been drained. If he was alive, he would have been gasping for breath. He wasn't so he continued to move as quietly as he could.

Unfortunately, even in the New World, he had only limited luck in learning to wield weapons that did not belong to a magic caster's class. He could swing a sword without dropping it, but he was like a child, flailing around randomly with a stick. Anyone with training could disarm him.

His pursuer was armed with [Razor Edge]. When the Grand Alliance formed they had shared information. They knew the blade, one of the Treasures of the now non-existent Re-Estize Kingdom, could hurt him. They knew it could kill him.

He had forgotten about it. The Grand Alliance had tried to kill him with various weapons. Every time their troops came close, they all screamed that he would die. He hadn't been concerned until one day, in what was just another skirmish, he had felt pain, and he had taken damage.

Demiurge was with him. The Demon had reacted. The world burned. There was a conflagration of fire as Demiurge moved to protect him. He had healed. The damage had been minor but for the Grand Alliance it had confirmed the blade's abilities.

It appeared everywhere then. He became further adept at shielding. It was not enough. He was stripped of allies. Those countries that supported him depopulated. Their citizens taken to power the Grand Alliance's magic. The undead he made were destroyed.

The Grand Alliance could sense their victory. They pushed harder. He pushed back. The world was tired. He could sense that. The deaths of so many through the conflict meant the world was tired. There was so much fire.

The Alliance fractured. They tried to remain united. A core remembered their purpose. The others just wanted it to end. There could be no compromise. They broke down. Orc once again killed human. Elf hunted dragon while dwarves cowered in fear as Quagoas roamed free. Trolls and Nagas killed each other.

Enough remained dedicated. Not many but enough. They risked everything. He'd been ambushed. Demiurge was with him. The remains of the Grand Alliance wanted him. They had to go through the Demon. Such loyalty surprised them. The Demon burned them all. He laughed at their arrogance. He told them their future.

They would bow to him. The fractured broken world would bow to him. Ainz didn't see how. Demiurge burned. He became fire. The Grand Alliance fighter's screamed as they died. Not all of them. One remained. The one following him. The one who hadn't given up.

"That's far enough!"

Ainz stopped and turned. The light was dim. It was night and the smoke obscured everything else. Still he could see the shadow who had been pursuing him. He said nothing, reaching out to pull a sword from his storage space. It was a simple weapon. It was one of the few he had remaining.

[Razor's Edge] had been covered in soot so that its distinctive sheen would not give away its position in the dark. Ainz could still see it.

"Monster, you will go no further!" The declaration was fierce.

"Monster?" Ainz questioned. "It was not I who began the killing," he pointed out. That fact would be lost to history. The once Grand Alliance might be fractured. It might be as weak as him but the winners write history. He had no doubt what they would say. "And what does that make you?"

The man paused. He knew what the question meant. He didn't try to deny it either.

"Everything I am is because of you," he hissed his reply.

Ainz shook his head. "I did nothing," he countered.

"You did everything!" the man cried. "You changed her!"

Ainz knew who she was. He had done nothing to her. "She made her own choices," he pointed out reasonably. This was probably not a time to be reasonable. He reached within, seeking any mana. If he could cast anything he would have an advantage. The Grand Alliance's last champion was, at his core, human, one of the weakest of all species. In another time he might be impressed that this one had survived.

"She was twisted and warped by you! She would never have done that if you didn't exist!"

"She made her own choices," Ainz repeated. He had never forced anyone to his cause. Some had been persuaded but most chose his side because it offered things they could not usually have. She had been no different.

The man screamed and charged forward. His first swing was wild. Ainz stepped out of the way. He tried to counter but his swing was equally uncontrolled. He had no mana and no restoratives. He was alone.

He felt no pride in that. It had taken so much to bring him to this point.

The man quickly recovered. He had been formally trained and while emotion was driving him, his training was coming to the fore. His next swing was controlled.

Ainz jumped back. There was a clash of swords as their blades met. There was barely any shock. It was a glancing blow. The man corrected his movement. He thrust [Razor Edge] forward with an odd twist. Ainz felt his bones strain as he tried to keep his grip on his own sword. It spun off into the gloom.

Ainz reached for another blade. He came up empty. No. He dodged as the next strike came. The man could see in the dark. The change must have been made by the New World's magic. Ainz lashed out. He was still strong compared most in the new world even if his physical strength was low for Yggdrasil.

He hit steel. The man was armoured. In the dark Ainz could see that the metal was dull. It was battered and pock marked. Like the sword it was covered in soot. It had seen much service. Ainz wondered what battles the man had seen.

The man didn't care. He lashed out again. Ainz instinctively raised one arm to shield himself. [Razor Edge] bit deep. He didn't cry out. The edge of the blade was meant to be perfect but he was still strong enough that he could resist somewhat but enough damage would kill him.

"This is for her!" the man hissed.

Ainz tried to kick him. The man was faster and Ainz was pushed back. He wasn't tired. Not in the way the living tired but he was fast running out of options. He felt his foot catch on a root and fell backwards. His bony arms windmilled but it was not enough to keep his balance. His behind hit the ground and he scrambled backwards.

He didn't want to die. Like the time in Yggdrasil, he didn't want to die. He wasn't sure if he could be resurrected, though he knew no one left in this world would have reason to try. Ainz reacted inwards again. There was still no mana. He looked into the face of death. It was not his own.

The man drew back his sword. It would be an overhead blow with both hands. Nothing would stop it. "This is for her!" he cried. Ainz could see the tear tracks on the man's face. "This is for me. This is because you made me kill her."

He didn't say anything. What could you say in this position? Nothing would convince the man that people made their own choices. The Grand Alliance had. He had. Everyone in this world had. Even his Guardians had chosen to die to protect him. It was one reason he did not want to die. It was one reason he was trying to fight. But there wasn't much left.

He looked up. He would not cower.

[Razor Edge] did not flash. Ainz saw its edge. The man swung. He could see his death.

The blade whistled. It sounded loud.

The noise ended in a thunk.

Ainz couldn't blink, he could only watch. He stared. The man stopped. His head moved, looking down towards his chest.

There was another whistle, ending in another thunk.

Ainz saw it all. The arrows hadn't gone through the man's armour. It would have been reinforced. Instead, one was lodged in his throat. It had gone in just above the chest plate, penetrating into the man's esophagus. The other decorated his shoulder, driving through the weak point of the armour's joint. The first was enough to kill the man.

The second stopped the swing of his sword.

Ainz watched. The man's eyes were incredulous. He knew he was dead. He lifted his eyes, trying to find the archer as he stumbled. Ainz scrambled backwards. The fall of his blade could still be fatal. The man didn't see anyone. Instead he fell. He didn't pitch backwards. He fell forwards. The arrows hadn't stopped his momentum.

Ainz watched as he collapsed. The arrows squelched into his flesh. It was a familiar sound. He smelt blood. It was a familiar scent.

He rose cautiously, tensed. Whoever fired could still want him dead. Even with the Alliance fractured there would be fame attached to the name who took his head. He turned slowly, peering into the darkness. He knew the man was dead. His racial senses allowed that much at least.

There was nothing in the dark. He shifted his eyes, looking further afield. There was still nothing. Even with all his enhanced senses he could see nothing. A rustle was his first clue. Ainz tried not to jump. He was nervous. He could see a ridge line by the way its darkness was deeper against the sky. It was a moonless night and there was thick smoke but the sky was slightly lighter.

Something shifted against the ridge. It rose. At first it didn't look like anything but a lump but it soon changed. Arms separated themselves from the bulk. Ainz thought he could see the outline of a bow. It was not drawn. He didn't know what he thought of that. He had no allies.

Those who had supported him had fallen. Each of them proved their worth. Even the lowliest of them. None died without at least taking one of the Grand Alliance with them but they had died and he was now alone.

The figure came closer. They moved silently. Ainz waited. There was no point in running. The darkness moved closer, like a shadow. It was humanoid. That meant nothing. Many demihumans were humanoid. Many of the Grand Alliance were humanoid.

It came close. There was no fear in the movement. It was confident. Ainz waited. He didn't have a weapon. He made no move to grab one. His mana was still gone. There was nothing he could do.

He saw eyes. They were human eyes. Small, and sneaky. He'd seen them before. The memory tugged at him but he could not place it.

"Your Majesty!" The figure spoke. Female. Breathless. Relieved.

No one had called him that since…

"Your Majesty! Are you unharmed?" The question was genuinely concerned. That hadn't happened since… He didn't want to remember. He recognised the voice.

"Neia," Ainz breathed.

She pulled something from her head. A veil fell away and he could see her clearly. He recognised the effects of camouflage.

"Your Majesty!" She seemed pleased to see him. He didn't know how to respond. He knew by her words she was still loyal. She still believed in him. He felt… He didn't know how to feel. He felt tired. He felt honoured. He felt hurt by everyone who had trusted him but he had failed.

They were gone.

Neia didn't move to support him. Instead she went to the man. She pushed his corpse over and pulled at [Razor Edge]. She picked up the blade but made no move to wield it. She could. Ainz remembered. Neia was a paladin. She could use that weapon.

Instead she brought it to him and held it out. The blade crossed her body. She was offering him the blade of the fallen.

"Neia," he breathed her name again. He knew what the blade meant. He knew what that posture meant.

He'd won. The last of the Grand Alliance had fallen.

Again, Ainz looked up at the sky. His brown robes shifted in the light wind. The smoke was still there. A few embers still spiralled in the air but everything was getting lighter. The sun was rising.

It was a new day.


End file.
